


In our bedroom after the war

by omnia_sol



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: I said sit down, M/M, but so soft, chuck wears raleighs lumpy sweater, just eat the damn pancake, so lumpy, so sit down son, stop disparaging raleighs pancakes chuck, your idea of cooking is microwavable meals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omnia_sol/pseuds/omnia_sol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over. Chuck and Raleigh enjoy the peace that they earned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In our bedroom after the war

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jaegercon Bingo on tumblr for the square "Nightmares".
> 
> Title taken from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kj1tMDB2NPQ) by Stars, I highly recommend you give it a listen before continuing :)

_“Wake up, say good morning to_  
 _that sleepy person lying next to you_  
 _and if there’s no one there  
_ _then there’s no one there  
_ _but at least the war is over.”_

_When he moves, he’s two hundred and fifty feet high and his footfalls are stronger than the sea. As a Jaeger he can stand in the eye of a storm, punch with impunity, and kill the behemoths that rise from the Pacific. He is infallible — and then he is not; he is struggling to stand and bright red warnings flash in front of him; Slattern and Scunner are circling and the screech of ripping metal rings in his ears. Stacker’s at his side — in his mind — and they know what they have to do._

_“It’s been an honor, sir,” he says, and this is it, this is the —_

 

“Chuck!”

His eyelids fly open.

It takes him a moment to register Raleigh hovering over him, dark blue eyes marred by concern. Chuck blinks, and then he realises that he’s not in the middle of the ocean; he’s in a wide, warm bed and Raleigh is backlit by the morning light, looking like an angel or some otherworldly being.

“Hey,” Chuck rasps out, running a hand over his face. He’s still shaken from the nightmare and feels like a live wire, raw and exposed. “Sorry, did I wake you again?” Christ, he thought his nightmares would be gone by now. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Raleigh replies, and he shifts closer so that he can rest his head on the other man’s chest. “Jesus, your heart’s racing. You gonna be okay?” He doesn’t have to ask what the nightmare was about — he’s been there. He’s had the same nightmares.

Chuck manages to smile, curling his arm around Raleigh’s body and pressing against the warmth and steadiness it offers. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.”

Raleigh shakes his head, idly tracing shapes with his fingertip across the scars and sinew of Chuck’s torso. Old scars, old memories from the war. “Can’t.” And he doesn’t have to explain that either, because Chuck knows. They were Jaeger pilots; sometimes they were woken up at odd hours and expected to go out and fight monsters. Once they were awake, there was no falling back asleep.

Chuck thanks whatever gods there may be that he doesn’t have to try and explain this to anyone else. When they’re curled up like this, he can almost forget that they were once two Rangers fighting their way out of an apocalypse; when they’re like this, it seems like their entire lives can be contained by the sheets they’re so hopelessly tangled in.

He stretches widely, letting his limbs spread out across the mattress; he’s still not used to having a bed this big after years of Shatterdome beds, and he damn well enjoys the luxury. His only requirement when they had bought it was that _“it has to be big enough that we can have sex on it in at least a hundred different positions.”_ Raleigh had laughed and retorted that it’s not as if having a small bed ever stopped them, and the mattress salesman had blushed so hard Chuck had almost felt bad for him. Almost. 

“Want pancakes?” Raleigh offers mildly, toying with the ginger hair that curls over Chuck’s neck.

Chuck rolls his eyes. “Your pancakes are lumpy,” he retorts, flicking Raleigh’s ear affectionately. He probably wasn’t one to talk — he’s lived off the Shatterdome’s food his entire life, so he can’t cook worth a damn. His mum had made the best blueberry pancakes (even twelve years later he can remember the taste of her blueberry pancakes.) Herc could only make instant noodles and toast, and Chuck wasn’t much better. 

Raleigh snorts. “Right, who was the one who set fire to the kitchen two weeks ago?”

Chuck kicks at him, flushing. “You can barely see the burn mark,” he says in a small voice, even as Raleigh shakes with laughter. He pushes the other man off his chest out of petulance more than anything else and rolls out of bed, slipping on one of Raleigh’s old knitted jumpers. He’s tried many a time to hide, burn, or donate them to charity, but somehow they kept finding their way back into their apartment. He’s even tried giving one to Max to chew on or use as a blanket, but the dog had only looked at Chuck with what he could swear was disapproval, as if he wouldn’t _dream_ of doing such a thing. Traitor.

“I thought you hated my sweaters,” Raleigh smirks, casting his eyes appreciatively over the way his old sweater rests snugly across Chuck’s sturdy build. 

Chuck shoots him a look. “Yeah, but...they’re really _soft_ ,” he admits, glaring at Raleigh as if he’s daring him to make a comment. “Now come on you bastard, you said there’d be pancakes.”

Raleigh laughs and rolls out of bed at last. “I thought you said my pancakes were lumpy,” he teases, shrugging into one of Chuck’s tight grey t-shirts because hey, two could play at that game (besides, Chuck has a grey t-shirt for every day of the month, and then some.)

“They _are_ lumpy but I’m too hungry to care,” Chuck huffs, and Raleigh laughs because he knows Chuck is seconds away from stomping his foot like a small child. “Hurry up _Ra_ -leigh!”

And Raleigh laughs, leans over, and catches Chuck in a kiss, because two years later and that nickname still hasn’t escaped him.

And he is so perfectly, damnably alright with that.

_Here it comes, here is the first day  
it starts in our bedroom after the war._  



End file.
